


She's Touch, Smell, Sight, Taste, and Sound

by lionessvalenti



Category: Bates Motel (2013)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Present Tense, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:24:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bradley wants it, and Dylan can't resist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's Touch, Smell, Sight, Taste, and Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "She's So High" by Tal Bachman.

It's not supposed to go like this, Dylan thinks as he stands in Bradley's bedroom. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "How old are you?" he asks. He knows she goes to school with Norman, but maybe he's got lucky here. Maybe she was born late in the year, or was held back in elementary school, but he doubts that because she's sharp.

"I'll be eighteen in two months," she replies. She's already unbuttoning her shirt.

"Two months," Dylan repeats. It doesn't sound like that long, but who knows what could happen in two months. He's the adult here. He has to know better. But now her shirt is on the floor. "I could go to jail for this."

"Only if I tell." Bradley reaches behind and unhooks her bra. "You helped me out when you didn't have to. You didn't even ask for anything in return. I like you. You're like the one person who doesn't expect anything from me."

It's not like Dylan hasn't done anything illegal. His job is illegal. But this is bad. This is really bad. He should walk away right now, but she's unbuttoning her jeans. She's pulling them down his her thighs. He takes his hands out of his pockets and rubs his thumbs over his sweaty palms.

"I want this," she says. She kicks her jeans aside and steps forward. She twists her hands around his jacket and pulls him closer to her. She presses her mouth to his, and she's soft. Her mouth, and her body as his hands gravitate to her hips. She's soft.

She wants this.

Dylan kisses her her like he's ripping into her. His hands slide down the back of her underwear and they fall back together onto the bed. "Sorry," he says.

Bradley laughs. "Are you going to do this with all your clothes on?"

"I shouldn't be doing this at all," he replies. He pulls away, but not far. Just enough to untangle himself from her. He tugs down her underwear until he pulls them off of her and then encourages her legs open. He lowers his head, and she grabs his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she asks. Her eyes are wide, but not panicked. Surprised.

Dylan grins. "You need to stop dating teenagers," he says and he laps at her. He starts slowly, just licking along her labia, because it's her first time and he wants her to adjust to the new sensation.

"That's so weird," she says with a breathless giggle.

He knows he shouldn't keep going because she's young, she's illegal, but he doesn't stop. The taste of her, her scent, is intoxicating. He runs his hands along the inside of her thighs. He finds her clit with his tongue. She moans and he's caught. He can't stop now, not even if he wanted to, and he can feel his erection constricted in his jeans.

Bradley threads her fingers into his hair. "Oh my god."

Dylan suddenly understands the meaning of _eating out_ in a way he never has before. He's devouring her. He can't get enough. His tongue works against her clit and she writhes.

"Dylan," she gasps, his name rolling off her lips like worship. "Dylan."

"Bradley," he mumbles, his mouth still busy, his breath hot on her cunt. Saying her name makes it real. He's doing this. It's happening. He doesn't want to forget.

He can't forget, not as she comes, her thighs tightening around his head, and her fingers pulling at his hair. She cries his name with abandon. There's no one else who can hear her.

Her thighs relax, and Dylan lifts his head. Her face his red and her breasts are heaving. He licks his lips. "Did you like it?"

Bradley opens her eyes and she stares at him like he's crazy. "Did _you_ like it."

She's still worried that her taste is weird or it smells bad, but it was perfect. "It was great," he replies. He sits up on his knees, never taking his eyes off of her, and he rubs the front of his jeans.

"Should I--?" she starts, but Dylan holds up his other hand to stop her.

"Just stay there," he says. "You're perfect," he says.

He lowers the zipper on his jeans and pulls out his dick. It's been craving touch ever since Bradley took off her shirt. He holds it at the base, his fingers curling around his balls, and he begins to stroke with his other hand.

Bradley, even though she's still flushed from her orgasm, dips a finger into her slit.

Dylan swallows hard. He can still taste her on his tongue. He doesn't think. He just wraps his hand around the head of his cock and he concentrates his efforts there. Bradley is right in front of him, on display, and she's perfect. She's so perfect. He bites his lower lip and --

* * *

Norman comes hard. Come splatters across the floor of the bathtub and already the cold water is pulling it toward the drain.

He doesn't know that it happened. Maybe Dylan and Bradley are just friends. Maybe it's all innocent. But Norman knows how good Bradley feels. He knows what she's like in his arms. She's irresistible. She's perfect. If she wanted him, there's no way Dylan could resist.

His hands curl into fists at his sides. Rage courses through him, and he can feel the world growing fuzzy around him.

Until there's a sharp knock at the door. "Norman, what the hell are you doing in there? You've been int here for half an hour!" Norma calls. The door knob rattles. "The door's locked." She sounds surprised.

"I'm showering, Mother!" Norman replies hastily. He grabs onto the shower curtain and pulls it back, the rings holding it up scraping against the metal bar. "Just -- just a minute!" He glances back at the floor to make sure all the come has been washed away before he turns off the water.

He nearly slips on the floor as he tries to grab his robe and step out of the tub at the same time. But he manages to pull it on without dying, and after tying it securely around his waist, opens the door. Norma is still standing there, a plastic laundry basket hitched on her hip.

"What?" he asks. The hall smells like fabric softener.

She looks at him through narrowed eyes, and he knows she knows what he's been doing in there. Of course she knows. "Save some hot water for the rest of us," she says, and then walks into her room.

With water still dripping from the ends of his hair, Norman curses under his breath, and he hopes she hasn't heard.


End file.
